


Procrastination

by sovery



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: AU, College AU, F/M, Fluff, Random & Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 07:23:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2980571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sovery/pseuds/sovery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Procrastination's considerably easier when you have someone to distract you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Procrastination

It’s a Friday night in March, the winter is finally breaking, and for two brief hours in the afternoon, Angel left his window open and ignored the chill. 

It’s a Friday night in March, that most miserable of months and in the other room, his pretty young girlfriend is painting her nails, waiting patiently for him to finish the small pile of papers he allotted himself from the shitload of purple prose he’s going to be wading through over the weekend. He’s still not sure being offered tenure was worth having to take the Intro to Art History course, and all the assorted headaches that entailed. 

He glowers at a particularly appalling bit of description about the Pre-Raphaelites and decides, fuck it, he’s done for the night. It’s practically a professors prerogative to take forever to return papers. A few more days won’t kill his students. And he’s not particularly impressed with this semester’s batch anyway. He swears the writing gets worse with every passing year. He refuses to admit that he might just be getting old. 

Angel shoves the pile closer to the middle of his scarred kitchen table and pads softly to the other room. 

Buffy’s got a pair of headphones in, and sways softly, mouthing along with the lyrics, as she paints her nails a soft lilac. She looks up and smiles at his approach. Kisses him, pulling at his soul with her siren’s mouth. He gently pulls out the little white buds from softly rounded ears, and she kisses him again. As usual, he feels a reflexive wave of guilt. 

“It’s Friday,” he says quietly, “Shouldn’t you be out having fun? I’m not-not very good company at the moment.”

She shrugs in response. “Been there, done that, but the people were better dressed, the booze was more expensive, and the rooms we were in weren’t shitty dorms that haven’t been cleaned anytime in the last decade.”

A girl as young as she is ought to be less cynical. Still, for all her occasional naivety, Buffy’s more mature that most, and though she can be insecure and has a tendency to babble when she gets nervous (though truly, Angel has encountered much worse in the form of her redheaded friend), she’s all steel at the core. 

She looks up at him from beneath lowered lashes, her clever green eyes glinting like those of a cat with a secret. 

“Did you decide on which classes you’re taking next semester?” he asks, nodding to a neglected laptop. He awards himself points mentally for not mentioning a major. 

She only shrugs in response. 

“I’m still not sure what I want to major in. I mean, I’ve liked some classes more than others,” she concedes, “but there’s nothing that makes me go, yes, okay, I can study you for another two and a half years, and then have a career in your field, and spend the rest of my life boring people while I talk about you.” 

“The boring part is optional,” Angel helpfully offers. Her expression is not impressed, but lightens considerably after he leans in and kisses her again. He is greedy for this girl.

“I’ve got three more days,” Buffy says with a frown. “Until then, I’m going to procrastinate.” 

“Well if you are,” Angel says, “I might as well join in.” 

Buffy leans in and snags his lapels. “Gonna ignore your students, Professor?” 

He drags his fingers up her spine, tangles then in her hair, and tilts her head back for a long, long time. When they finally pull apart, panting and desperate, he smirks. 

“All but one,” he whispers, “Not one of mine, but such a bright girl,” and he takes her mouth again. “Still, there’s something I believe she needs my help with,” he continues. 

“You might be right,” she purrs back, “But I don’t think,” she says, punctuating the word with a lick up his neck, “she’ll be the only one learning.” 

“Of that,” Angel says, beginning the awkward walk to his bedroom backwards, pulling his girl with him, “I am sure.” 

They pull the door shut behind them and ignore academia for a few hours. 

**Author's Note:**

> Found this kicking around in my 'Ready to Be Published Folder' which I had assumed was empty. Oops. Just a random oneshot.


End file.
